


strange, it's getting darker

by mushydesserts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: :D, Alternate Universe - Silent Hill Fusion, Creepypasta prompt, F/M, Gen, M/M, MT!Prompto, Psychological Horror, Silent Hill References, Spooky, hey hey guess who loves ghost stories, uh sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-25 22:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12542300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushydesserts/pseuds/mushydesserts
Summary: Prompto looks up at him through the metal grate, blue eyes dead."I thought you wanted to get rid of me," he says. "But Noct, I'm — I'm glad you're here."(FFXV ghost story drabbles. Happy Halloween!)





	1. who's that with us? [ignis]

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, y'all! These started as one-offs for a Creepypasta [prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3016.html?thread=2589896#cmt2589896) on the kinkmeme, so the first two may be familiar to some. :)

i. 

 

"Who's that with us?"

"Ignis," Prompto says gently as Noctis and Gladio stare at each other awkwardly, "There's nobody with us."

Ignis touches the gauze over his eye. "Ah, my mistake."

As time goes, Ignis learns to call each of them by their footstep. He can sense when the weather is changing, when the sun is about to go down; he can ask Prompto to hand him his cane if Prompto is nearby, can tell when Gladio needs to take a break, can tell whether Noctis is asleep or awake.

He still lifts his head occasionally. "Noct, who's that with us?"

Noctis still looks around before saying, "It's just us, Iggy."

"Of course. My mistake."

Ignis learns to fight blind, to land a blade in a snarling creature's neck without seeing it. They clear out a pack of mangy leaping things at the bottom of a swamp in minutes. Gladio dismisses his sword and rolls his shoulder. Noctis checks his curatives.

Ignis lifts his head and says, "How many are left?"

Noctis says, "None, Iggy, we got all of them."

"Then who's with us?"

"Nobody, Iggy."

"Right. My mistake."

Ignis puts away his blades and acts like nothing is out of the ordinary. Nobody else pays it any mind.

After a few more unnaturally still nights camping in the wild, Noctis begins to wonder.

 

 


	2. where are you? [luna]

ii.

 

"Noct, are you okay?"

Noctis looks up, dreamily, eyes shadowed, from the torn little paper notebook.

"Yeah. I'm fine," he says.

After Altissia, the book is all Noctis has left of Luna. Prompto understands that. Prompto's spent enough time treasuring his one letter from the princess himself, and that book holds years of correspondence between friends, confidantes, lovers-to-be. Noctis might have a duty ahead of him, but surely, he too can have time to grieve. Surely, he too can have time to remember.

The days pass in silence, mourning. Noctis rarely speaks, barely eats. He's often staring out the window at the setting sun, the little notebook held in his lap. Nobody disturbs him. Gladio tends to Ignis, and Prompto tries to keep himself occupied.

After dinner, he checks in again. "Noct, will you be all right?"

Noctis is pale from tiredness, but he barely glances up, fingers resting on the little blue flower pressed between the worn pages.

"I'll be fine," he says.

Before bed, Prompto comes by with a blanket. Noctis is asleep by the window, finally surrendering to exhaustion. Prompto tucks the blanket around his shoulders. He catches sight of the book lying where it had fallen on the ground from Noctis's lap, open to the last page.

 

_where are you?_

_my love, where are you?_

_where are you_

_where are you?_

_i don't know where i am_

_it's cold_

_i'm waiting for_

_where are_

_where are you_

_my love_

 

 


	3. what we left behind [gladio]

iii.

 

After the Tempering Grounds, Gladio sometimes gets the feeling that he's left something behind.

It had started before they crossed the sea, really, before Altissia, but Gladio had just thought it was the stress of the whole thing, meeting up with Luna and confronting the Hydraean, and Ardyn; it hadn't helped that Gladio had gone off on his own just before it all, and he figured it was only his own fault if he was out of the loop for a little while.

But after everything went to hell, it didn't get better.

The group isn't doing well. That's not a surprise, but it's — something's off. Something else. Like Prompto, who always used to complain about the cold — Prompto doesn't stand so close to him anymore. If Gladio touches his shoulder, he shivers and moves away. And though Gladio takes care not to touch Ignis suddenly, he sometimes reaches out to catch the other man when he stumbles, and then for a while afterwards, Ignis's face will be more drawn, paler, hairs standing up on his arms. Gladio stops doing it.

It's all right if none of them are really in the mood to talk these days. Still, Noctis's silence is the worst.

It hacks him off after a while, the heavy atmosphere. Noctis just withdraws further, turning that stupid ring over and over in his hands, staring at it and then pocketing it again. Gladio watches him, and Noctis just ignores him.

"You planning to put that thing on?" Gladio says once, voice tense, harsher than he'd intended. Something about the motion gets on his nerves.

Noctis freezes and closes his fingers around the ring. He gets up, leaves the train compartment without looking behind him.

Gladio glances out the window at the landscape passing by. The glare of the sun against the rails makes him wince, but he forces himself to watch until the dusk fades.

 

The fire crackles at Plantagh Haven under the rain that never seems to stop spitting in Cartanica. The heat of the flame is searing, hissing and sending up smoke, water on Gladio's skin burning, the quiet smothering. Ignis is sitting to his left, stiff; Noctis is sitting straight across from them, staring at Gladio, eyes steady, piercing, unbearably bright.

Prompto is standing somewhere over his shoulder by the lantern, and Gladio feels his eyes on him too, cutting through the gloom. Ignis doesn't speak, can't stare, but Gladio _feels_ his presence, all of their presences like weights, pressing down with warmth and heartbeat, like a descending brand. Everything is too hot, air too heavy with mist, with swamp fog, with whispers like pinpricks on the back of his neck. Gladio can't breathe.

He gets up. He walks away from the fire, a near-stumble. Prompto moves away from him as he stalks by, and Gladio keeps going, past the edge of the camp, right into the dark, right off the haven grounds, like they're never supposed to do; he doesn't stop until he steps off the soft blue runes and into the night, his first breath like a gasp, and then another, and he presses the backs of his knuckles into his eyes until the headache goes away.

Nobody comes after him.

He spends the night under a withered white tree by the murky water, his sword in his hand just in case. He can hear daemons and animals sniffing around, just beyond the clearing. Strangely, nothing comes to bother him.

 

 


	4. is it really you? [prompto]

iv. 

 

As soon as the chains are off, Prompto gasps and slumps forward off the chair. Noctis catches him and lowers him to the cold concrete of the warehouse floor, feels warm skin beneath his fingers, chokes down a sob.

"Prompto, I'm sorry," Noctis says. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have — "

Prompto smiles and wraps his arms around Noctis weakly. "I'm fine, Noct. Really. I am. I'm here."

Noctis presses his face into Prompto's shirt and lets Prompto rub his back awkwardly.

After a few minutes, they help each other stand. "The others," Noctis says, and Prompto just nods. Noctis starts back the way he came, Prompto just behind him.

They turn a corner, and it's a dead end. Noctis looks back, and Prompto's gone, the scattered pieces of an MT lying on the floor.

 

Noctis presses his hands urgently against the plexiglass door, his fingers leaving prints in the fog. "Prompto, I'm here. It's me, I'm — "

Prompto's wide, red-rimmed eyes dart from his face to the darkness behind him. His mouth moves, and his voice is muffled through the barrier. "I know. Noct, I — "

"I'll get you out of there, just — " Noctis looks around him desperately, at the mess of wires, the mess of blinking lights and the power panels. "I don't have my — I don't have any weapons. Let me just — "

Prompto's lips are going blue. Noctis turns to find a crowbar, a broom handle, anything —

He returns a minute later with screwdriver from a toolbox in some abandoned janitor's closet. The space behind the glass is empty, an MT's axe buried in the wires.

 

Prompto looks up at him through the metal grate, blue eyes dead.

"I thought you wanted to get rid of me," he says. "But Noct, I'm — I'm glad you're here."

Noctis tries to lift the grate, but all it does is leave red grooves in his fingers. Prompto's restraints leave the same red marks on his hands. Prompto dully watches him struggle.

"There are a lot more of me, though," Prompto says softly.

 

When Noctis sees Gladio and Ignis, he takes a step towards them.

He pauses. For just a second.

 

Prompto is looking at him, eyes big, apprehensive. "Were you really worried about me?" His mouth trembles a bit. Behind him, Gladio looks on.

Noctis swallows, licks his lips. He wonders if he's imagining the red in those pupils.

He opens his mouth to answer.

 

 


	5. there was a hole here

v. 

 

Iris had cried when Noctis brought her the flowers.

He'd stood, baffled, hand on the back of his head, as she'd clutched the bouquet close and pressed her knuckles to her mouth. The cabin at Caem was deserted, warm and stifling in the summer heat. In the corner of his eye, Gladio had shifted uncomfortably in the shadows of his hiding spot. Fat lot of help he was, after putting Noctis up to it.

"Are... are they okay?" he'd asked awkwardly, seized with uncertainty and aware of a vague guilt in the back of his mind. He'd been so _reluctant_ to get up early to help pick them out, and he hadn't really been much help in the end, either. He didn't think it'd matter so much.

"They're perfect," Iris had said, laugh through tears. "Look at you, picking flowers. Gladdy'd have a field day."

"He uh, he might've helped," he'd confessed, then shut up. He could _sense_ Gladio frowning.

Iris had smiled and blinked the tears away anyway. "Thanks, Noct."

Noctis had let out a breath once she was out of earshot. "Well, I mean... I gave them to her," he'd said. He'd been half-sure Gladio was going to toss him off the bluffs for making his little sister cry.

But Gladio had just grinned widely and tousled his hair. Something scrabbled behind one of the bedroom doors on the second floor.

"You did good," he'd said.

 

\--

 

On the way to Cartanica, Noctis had let Gladio and Ignis alone.

The two of them were always together, Gladio leaning against the wall with his arms crossed nearby, as Ignis stood ramrod-straight with his fingers still on his cane. Sometimes they sat and murmured in the corner, heads close, but Noct could never quite hear what they were saying. They would tense up and fall silent when he walked by, Gladio's eyes following him until he stepped out of range before they would relax and go back to chatting.

Instead, Noctis ate with Prompto at the counter in the dining car.

The food on the train had tasted of cardboard and stale ice. Noctis couldn't tell if it was just his lack of appetite, or if he'd just gotten so used to Ignis's cooking (cooking he might never taste again now — but don't, don't think about that) that everything else seemed tasteless in comparison.

"It's not so bad," Prompto had said gamely.

Noctis had picked at the mush on his plate, listening to the rumble and screech of the wheels underneath the train, far away.

 

\--

 

Noctis had been seized with an _utter panic_ when Prompto fell _._

He knelt on the roof of the train, throat closed tight, black spots before his eyes as he gasped, dry heaves; he didn't know _why_ he was so shaken — he'd seen Prompto, Prompto hadn't been _hurt,_ not yet, and he wouldn't be, not if they stopped the train, right now, they had to go back, they had to —

Ignis's voice had assured him that things would be all right, but Noctis couldn't get rid of the ringing in his ears and the pain in his chest, like he was the one falling, like he was the one crumpled at the bottom of a valley, broken and hollow, where no one would ever find him, where no one would be there to come looking for him.

The ringing lasted all the way to Tenebrae. It subsided a little bit, just a little, when Gentiana came, and her cold breath left the curve of Luna's lips.

 

\--

 

On the streets of Gralea, Noctis stood alone. Fires in the wreckage sent up black smoke on the freeway littered with debris; strange creatures flew overhead, silent, their limbs and glowing red eyes roving over the crumbling city.

"Gladio," he'd called numbly, but the wind had sucked the sound away. He'd licked his lips and tried again. "Ignis." He heard no response, nothing but the roar of flame and the drip of spilled oil and burst pipes.

He'd looked back for a moment, into the darkness the way he'd come from. The Ring in his pocket burned cold through his jacket. It seemed to whisper to him.

He went on ahead.

 

\--

 

_Be waiting in Hammerhead._

Noctis takes a in breath. Umbra watches him, gaze cold, pitying in the murky light.

He pockets the note.

 

\--

 

He can see the dolls strung up in the throne room.

Eyes closed, as if they're sleeping. Skin smooth, as if they haven't aged a day in ten years. If it weren't for the bled-out gash through Gladio's chest, the broken angles to Prompto's limbs, the way Ignis's face is caved in, just above the mouth — he'd say they looked just like they had that morning when they'd set out from Insomnia long ago.

"No," he says.

_They aren't real._

Gladio and Ignis are quiet behind him. Prompto looks away.

"I wondered," the red-haired man muses, "If I should've brought them back for you. But they never really left you, did they?"

The wind screams through the ruins of the throne room, sighs across the corruption on the old walls, howls through the empty, dust-covered corridors beyond. The grotesque dolls blow away into ash, along with his father, along with Luna.

Noctis trembles. "I've had enough of your monsters," he says, voice hoarse. "Of _you_."

The man laughs. _"Oh._ Your Majesty. Do we look like monsters to you?"

The roaring in Noctis's ears rises, the man's laughter ringing, deafening, echoing on and on as he slowly ascends the steps to the throne. Behind him, his brothers stand in silent watch.

It has been an eternity.

But he's ready now.

 

 

 

_do I look like a ghost to you?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The Caem cabin is apparently (I hear?) empty and infested with monsters if you go there before the plot requires it. 
> 
> 2) The title of this chapter is a Silent Hill reference. 
> 
> 3) the title of the fic is also a silent hill reference. 
> 
> 4) this chapter is a silent hill reference. the previous chapter, and the one before it, and possibly the one before that too are also silent hill references. are we going to talk about how waking up to _"We'll be waiting... in Hammerhead"_ on a note from a dog in a tomb in the middle of a dark monster-infested wasteland where the sun never rises is silent hill af 
> 
> 5) :D thank you for reading! <3 as always, find me at [mushydesserts.tumblr.com](https://mushydesserts.tumblr.com)


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